


It's our trailer, not our home.

by milkshakesandmurders



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Flashbacks, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkshakesandmurders/pseuds/milkshakesandmurders
Summary: Looking down, she was wearing his shirt. In her immediate panic, she scanned the room for scattered clothes; or anything that indicated what had happened to have her end up in this bed, wearing his shirt.





	It's our trailer, not our home.

**Author's Note:**

> After stumbling across the new still that was released earlier today of Bughead hugging on his bed; my mind went it total overdrive. Ideas were swarming in my head. I wrote bits and pieces at work, and did some work on it tonight. (with a huuuuge thanks to both @a92vm & @rainystripe) I've taken some liberties here. I don't wish to give too much away. But there's some ideas take from recent episodes, however, I've put my own little spin... I hope you enjoy. xx

This time of the day was usually her favourite. The birds chirping, the sun shining and the beginning of a brand new day, filled with hope and promises.  
But today was different.  Today, she woke with an unfamiliar dull throbbing behind her eyes that was so painful, it pulled her from a somewhat deep slumber. But combined with the steady stream of sunshine blanketing the room, she was not only dreading the morning, but she was also trying to mentally prepare herself for the repercussions of the previous nights events.

Looking at her surroundings; there was no pink, and there was no femininity in sight. The room was small, minimal and lacked any kind of ‘warmth’. It had been stripped. Stripped of  _her_. Slowly sitting up, overcome with the room suddenly spinning around her, Betty couldn’t hold in the painful groan that escaped her. Looking down, she was wearing  _his_  shirt. In her immediate panic, she scanned the room for scattered clothes; or  _anything_  that indicated what had happened to have her end up in this bed, wearing his shirt.

If it were any other day, Betty would have loved waking up in this room, curling up to his side, nuzzling his chest, murmuring good morning and casually telling him how much she loved him. Like, she had done almost everyday over the last five years. They had been through more than any other regular teenager in high school; Jason’s murder, Clifford’s suicide, the Black Hood, the Sugarman and issues between the Northside and the Southside. But, Betty and Jughead (aka Bughead amongst their nearest and dearest) were ‘solid’ - it was them against the world, it always had been and it was always meant to be -  _high school sweethearts_. But, as Betty got lost in her thoughts; this morning was different. Everything had changed in a blink of an eye. Falling back into the pillow, Betty closed her eyes willing the painful memories of last night to disappear.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean you ‘ _hooked up_ ’ with Toni?” The disdain painfully evident in her raised voice.

“Betty, it was a  _mistake_!” Jughead was pleading with her to listen to  _him_ , to hear  _him_. To hear the heartbreak in his voice, “please, you have to believe me. I love  _you_!” He moved closer to her, wanting to touch her skin, but she moved away.

Raising her finger, “do  _ **NOT**_  touch me,” clearly emphasizing the ‘not’ in her words, Betty slowly backed away, “I don’t want your hands anywhere near me.”

Jughead felt what little colour he had left drain from his face. The hate Betty was exuding and the way her body recoiled from his attempt at reaching for her shattered his heart into a million pieces.  “Why are you here, Betty?” He whispered. It was the most he could muster.

“ _ **What**_?” She retorted, “Why am I here?” Betty laughed, “I’m beginning to ask myself the very same fucking question,  _Jughead_ ,” slamming the small dining table with her hands, she winced as the pain shot up her arms, ignoring the feeling she began whispering, “why am I here? Because, I missed you. For some  _reason_ , I actually missed you. I actually started thinking ‘hey, maybe the separation was a mistake’. But. Maybe I was right all along,” gesturing to the empty bottles scattered around the room, “were you drunk?”

“Betty-“ the judgement he was feeling from her, made him feel like the smallest person on earth. He felt like he was shrinking in his own skin. The only person to ever make him feel like this was his mother, Gladys. And even then, he always bounced back - it’s what he did. But not with her. Not with Betty Cooper.

“I won’t ask again, Jughead. Were you drunk? Are you going to blame it on the booze?” Her words were small, but they packed a punch, they hurt more than being punched for numerous Serpents.

“You broke this off, Betty. You were here, you stood here, in  _our_  lounge room, making it abundantly clear that you were done. You don’t think I told myself every other day how much better you would be without me?” The surge of self loathing and self depreciation of himself and his life descending tenfold, “cos every fucking morning when I felt you stirring next to me, it’s a thought that was always there, and I would ask myself ‘ _when will she realise?_ ’ And it’s like you have finally seen the light,” he ran his fingers through his hair, the comfort of his crown beanie gone, disregarded in a fit of anger close to 48 hours ago, “I can’t give you what you deserve. And you know that!”

“Don’t you dare turn this around on me, Jug! That is not fair!” Her eyes spitting green fire, “not even 48 hours and you already in  _her_  arms. That action right there, really speaks volumes.”

Jughead couldn’t contain his laughter by this point; laughter filled with hate and heartbreak, “speaks volumes, huh?” With his teeth clenched, the pain moving through his jaw, despite being painful, it was a  _feeling_  - something he hadn’t felt since Betty was last in this very lounge room. 

“Yes, Jug. It speaks volumes. Loudly and very fucking clearly,” with her chest heaving, the room feeling like it was closing in around her, her eyes darting around the room, the inevitable question loomed, an elephant in the too small of a room, “did you sleep with her?”

Closing his eyes, wiling for this entire thing to just be over, he shook his head. He didn’t owe Betty an explanation.  _She left him_. She broke his heart. She ripped  _his_  heart out and dropped it on the very floor that was between them.

With an almost deafening silence falling over the rundown trailer, Betty moved to sit at the dining table, “why’d you do it, Jug?” The small words echoing off the paper thin walls, bouncing around his ears.

He swallowed hard, ever since  _it_  happened, he hadn’t thought about how he would tell Betty - purely because he didn’t think he’d have to. Her cold and calculated words led him to believe that she was done. Done with not only him, but also done with their average trailer life in the Southside.

Betty cleared her throat, awaiting his answer, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the shitty dining table - the very table they would eat their meals at, chat about their days, and had occasionally (unhygienic, of course) made love on. 

“You did the one thing, the one and only thing in the world that could hurt me, Betty,” his leg involuntarily shaking, “you broke me." It was the plain, and it was that simple. Betty Cooper had broken Jughead Jones.   
The Serpent prince who would frequently stumble back into the trailer, bearing battle wounds from whatever fucked up shit the Serpents had found themselves in - was  _broken_. The emotional blow she had dealt him that night was nothing like he had experienced before.  And Jughead Jones had been dealt some cold and painful blows.

In the corner of his eye, he saw her slowly stand up and start to pace the floor -it was one of her nervous habits- making her way to the lounge room. Still looking at the coffee table in front, fixated on the week old newspaper, he couldn’t bare to look up at her, his stomach was in knots, trying to ease the feeling of nausea that was forming and threatening to rise.

“Did you feel _anything_ with her?” It was a simple enough question, but the weight it held could make or break this entire situation. Jughead knew that.

“No. I didn’t.” Simple enough answer.

Betty sighed, and moved her hand to wipe away the tears that were freely falling down her cheek, “Why then, Jughead? Why,  _her_?”

Again, another simple enough question - but  _this_  answer, not so simple. Closing his eyes, in his head, the scene unfolding all over again. 

 

_After a job, all of the gang had gone back to the Whyte Wyrm to celebrate the victory. It had just gone midnight and Betty hadn’t heard from him. She jumped in their beat up truck and made her way to the bar. It was her walking in, and being confronted with ‘chug Jug, chug Jug!’ that made her see nothing but red. The silence that had fallen over the bar stopped him in his tracks. He felt her presence.  They caught eyes, and it was a simple shake of her head that made it all slowly unravel.  
_ _Betty had turned around, and drove back to the trailer, packing her things._

_She was screaming at him - he had missed dinner, yet again; Serpents this and Serpents that, but it wasn’t just any dinner this time though, it was their anniversary dinner; celebrating their first year of marriage - even though they had just scraped through, they had made it. Relatively unscathed.  
_ _But Betty staying indefinitely at Veronica’s was not how the night was supposed to end._

 

“I don’t know, Betty, I don’t know. She turned up the morning after you left,” he bit his lip, wincing at the metallic taste that filled his mouth, “it dawned on me that you had left. You left me. I felt nothing, I was numb. I thought, maybe I would feel something, fuck,  _anything_ ,” He closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears at bay, “she kissed me, and all I could think of was you, all I saw was you. I closed my eyes and it was your golden blonde hair, your electric green eyes. But I felt nothing. Not a thing.”

He felt the familiar touch of her finger removing the wayward curl from his eye; the sigh that escaped him was almost one of relief as he closed his eyes - breathing in her scent; vanilla and lavender with a tinge of musk, “did she stay the night?” His eyes opened and turned to look at her, take her in -he didn’t know if he’d get this chance ever again- but her eyes said it all, she didn’t need to ‘ask’ - did Toni sleep in  _their_  bed?

Once again, his response was wordless - just a head shake, Betty simply nodded, on the verge of the accepting his answer, but not before asking him if he returned her kiss.

“If I said no, I’d be lying. If I said it only happened once, I’d be lying,” the weight beside him shifted, feeling her remove herself from his presence, once again pacing the small living space, “I don’t expect you to understand, or get it, Betty. I really don’t. But, she was there, she listened to me. After I got my head around what was actually happening, I stopped it. I stopped it going any further. I mean, she likes girls, for Christ’s sake.”

That part got her attention, “ _what_?”

“Toni likes women, I mean, she likes men too, but she’s more into women, so.” He shrugged, and noticed Betty’s face processing this new development.

The two didn’t speak for a while; there was words exchanged every so often, nothing of substance. More to keep them both from thinking too much about anything and everything, however, despite the events, it was a comfortable silence that ended up taking over. it was when the clock rung that it was midnight and Jughead saw Betty falling asleep on the opposite end of the couch, he decided she wasn’t going to be going anywhere this late. He picked her up and moved her to  _their_  bed, despite her removing almost everything of hers,  _to him_ , it was still  _theirs_. Careful not to wake her, he grabbed one of his S shirts, and pulled it over her head.

Slowly maneuvering her to under the blankets and gently laying her onto her pillow, he watched her for a few moments- taking her in. This woman was going to be the death of him. If she asked -which he knew she never would- him to give up the Serpents for her, he would  _in a heartbeat_. Without even a second thought.

 

* * *

 

Overwhelmed with the tears cascading down her face, she didn’t hear the door of their bedroom opening.   
“Hey, sorry, I did knock, but-“ with this words getting stuck in his throat at the sight of Betty sobbing, he rushed over to sit beside her, instinctively wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders, she curled into his side, “Betts, shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“Juggie, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, “I shouldn’t have left when I did, we should’ve talked, if we had, you would never-“

“Hey, Hey. Don’t,” pressing his finger to her lips, “we both fucked up, me definitely. Probably just me, to be honest,” feeling her relax in his arms, he gave her furthest arm a squeeze -almost to say they’ll figure it out, they were Betty and Jughead, it’s what  _they_  do, it’s what they’ve  _always_  done- pressing his lips against her temple.

If Jughead hadn’t been paying attention to Betty’s every movement, every breath she was taking in those few moments he wouldn’t have caught the words that - _oh so_ \- quietly tumbled from her lips.

“You’re, what?” He  _had_  heard her, but he needed to hear it again, just to be 100% sure.

Betty shivered, “I’m pregnant,” she felt him pull back, the grip on her arm not only loosening, but suddenly not even there, “you wanted to know why I was here last night.”

“ _Pregnant_?” The hammering in his chest, echoing in his ears, his eyes darting from hers -which he noted were filled with a mixture of endless green pastures and hope- to her stomach and back to her eyes again, “are you-“

“Sure? I can’t say for sure. I felt unusually sick yesterday. Well, for a few days,” Jughead’s brain flickered back to Betty heaving into the toilet bowl just a week ago, but he had put that down to the amount of wine they had consumed the night before, “so I guess, in the heat of the moment, I did a test at Veronica’s,” she giggled at the expression on Jughead’s face, “yes, she’s stocked up, so, I thought why not.”

“We’re pregnant-“

“ _Maybe_ , pregnant, Jug. Maybe,” she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, “did you sleep on the couch last night?”

He nodded, whilst murmuring yes against her lips.

Betty pulled away, her fingers reaching to trace the Serpent on his arm. She remembers what he went through to get this tattoo; the  _stupid_  tattoo. He always laughed at the way her face would scrunch when her eyes would fall upon his upper arm. 

“Things _will_ have to change, you know?” She whispered, leaving featherlike touches on his arm.

Jughead nodded, “I know,” he left a kiss on her forehead, “we’ll need to move.” Her gasp didn’t go unnoticed, “Betts, we can’t raise a baby in a trailer. As much as my parents thought it was fine, it’s not.”

“But, Juggie, this is our _home_ ,” Her eyes welling up yet again, but this time, it was happy tears. 

“It’s our house, well, it’s our trailer, Betty. It’s not a home. Let’s be real here,” gently cupping her face in his hands, he moved to press his lips against hers, “we can move. It’s what we need. If we’re going to be a family, we need to do it right. And if it means, pissing the trailer off, so be it.”

“I love you, Juggie,” this time it was her chance to press her lips to his.

“And I love you-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Betty was pushing him back into the bed, and had her legs either side of his waist.  
“Betts, what are you doing?” Not that he was at all complaining, but this behaviour, considering last night - seemed ‘out of character’. 

“Am I not allowed to straddle my husband in bed?” She leaned forward, crashing her mouth into his, but before he could return her kiss, Betty sat up and removed the S shirt and threw it to the floor.

“Look, this is fucking incredible, really,” it didn’t matter how often he had seen Betty in lacy bras or even no bras, he was still gobsmacked, “but we should call and make an appointment for the doctors, yeah?”  

Betty titled her head to the side, “Juggie, is that what you’re thinking about right now?” She watched him shrug, “we’ll call later, now just shut up and make love to me.”

Betty giggled as she felt him flip her over, “happy first wedding anniversary, baby.”


End file.
